Old Books & Whiskey
by PeridotTea91
Summary: Sam makes for a good distraction while researching in the archives.


The Men of Letters' Bunker was undoubtedly a wonder. When she first was dragged there several months ago, the outside of the building was a bit daunting. Even with the reassurances of the Winchester brothers, she was wary of entering what looked like an abandoned power plant. But that's where all suspicions ended. As soon as she descended the stairs to the War Room, and crossed into the impressive private library, she was hooked. This was where she belonged.

The smell of old books and whiskey was her favorite smell.

She would spend days at a time combing through whatever tomes the bunker offered her. However, when she discovered the Men of Letters archives (which was also the dungeon), she couldn't contain her inquisitive spirit. Before long, she had become ingrained in a routine where mornings were spent in the library with a cup of tea, and afternoons in the archives with a glass of whiskey.

This was where Sam found her one particular afternoon, busy combing through the records and files of Men of Letters' past. He couldn't help but smile at the sight before him- she was tucked up in a chair she had Sam drag in from the library ("Its more comfortable!"), her hair piled in what was an attempt at a bun but pieces were falling down, and her large-rimmed glasses were slowly sliding down the bridge of her nose. She always looked so beautiful like this, focused and in her natural habitat with her nose stuck in a book. Maybe that was why Sam found himself falling harder and harder for her day by day.

Sam strolled to where she sat at the table, refilling her glass before filling his own and taking a seat across from her. Suddenly the archives felt oddly cozy. She looked up at him, gave him a soft, sweet smile, before returning to her notetaking.

"Find anything good?" Sam asked, watching her with interest.

"Well, I've found several records of monsters that I'm pretty sure neither you nor Dean have heard of," she answered while sliding him a small stack of papers, each one with detailed annotations, "But in regards to supernatural artifacts, I haven't found much."

They had been digging through online and Men of Letters' lore in search of anything that could possibly be the cursed ancient weapons they had been attempting to track down. But sadly, weeks of research yielded little results. That was another thing Sam loved about her, she was fiercely determined and dedicated to the task. Dean had long-since quit researching, instead choosing to "leave it to the bookworms." Sam had tried to keep researching, combing through about half of the books in the library before needing to call it quits. But she outlasted all of them and was still going strong in her efforts.

"Well don't forget to take a break every once in a while."

She lightly chuckled at him, "Are you here to keep me company or distract me, Sam?"

Her voice was soft and silvery. Sam could listen to her talk all day and would never get bored.

"Maybe a little bit of both?" the hunter shrugged with a smirk as he brought his glass of whiskey to his lips. "Is that a problem?"

"Depends on how you intend to distract me," she smiled coyly.

Sam could feel the heat rise in his cheeks. Ever since she moved into the bunker, the duo had been performing a dance of flirtation. There were smiles, gentle brushes of hands, knees touching under the tables, close moments, and lingering gazes between them. Dean had pulled his brother aside and practically _begged_ him to finally make a move. But Sam wasn't as bold or confident as his older brother when it came to women. Sure, in his younger days, Sam could occasionally lay it on smooth and impress even Dean. But he was older now, in his 30s and no longer used to receiving the attention of the opposite sex. There had been so many almost moments between Sam and his new companion, but just when he should have made a move, he chickened out, or they were interrupted.

She didn't know just how much more she could take. She had been waiting patiently for Sam to do something, anything, for weeks. To say she was frustrated was a huge understatement. It had gotten to the point where she even pulled Dean aside and asked for advice regarding the younger Winchester.

"_Look, Sam isn't the greatest when it comes to women and flirting. Hell, you read the books!"_

_"Of course, I did! But what should I __do__?"_

_Dean pondered for a moment, "Honestly? Surprise him. Make a move. If you're really that tired of waitin' on Sammy, then you be the one to take it up a notch."_

"_That's easier said than done, Dean. I don't make the first move! I usually freeze up until they do something! I'm bad at this!"_

"_Oh, for the love of-," Dean dragged his hands over his face in frustration, "Then, I suggest you read a book or two."_

Sam locked eyes with her from over the rim of his tumbler. He hadn't exactly planned for her to flirt back with him so in a rare moment of ineptitude, Sam froze. She slowly dragged her teeth over her bottom lip, waiting for a response but instead got a deer-in-headlights look. Letting out a soft sigh, she pushed away from the table, stood, and slowly walked over to where Sam was sitting. Sam watched her wide-eyed as she stood before him, gently taking his whiskey from his hand and setting it on the table behind her.

Sliding her hands over Sam's shoulders, she straddled his lap and seated herself comfortably against him. They could both feel Sam hardening beneath her, the hunter now flushing a light shade of pink.

"How were you gonna distract me, Sam?" she asked her breath ghosting softly over Sam's lips.

Sam let out a shaky breath, and suddenly, something flashed in his eyes. Scooping her up, Sam stood and forcefully set her on the edge of the table. Looking down at her, Sam gave her hips a slight squeeze and pulled her flush against him, his body heat washing over her.

"Like this."

Sam crashed his lips against hers in a searing kiss, sucking all the air from her lungs. Her head began to swim as his tongue demanded entrance into her mouth. She moaned as his tongue licked hers, grinding her core against his rock-hard bulge. She tugged on the front of Sam's flannel, hoping to get him impossibly closer. His large hands cupped her face as he continued kissing her, the coil of desire tightening within them both.

Finally, Sam broke away, both of them panting heavily. Sam gently shifted her hips forward, so her rear was teetering off the edge of the table and gently pushed her backwards, so she laid against the cool surface. He left featherlight kisses along her collarbone and across her chest with every shirt button he undid on her. Eventually, he made his way further down, quickly disposing of her shorts and panties, not once breaking eye contact as he worked.

Oh yes, the smell of old books and whiskey was her favorite smell.


End file.
